


The Road to Christmas

by AdamantSteve, maybelater



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Road to Christmas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Christmas, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Infidelity, M/M, Road Trip, Xenophobia, prejudices against italians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 12:11:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve, https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybelater/pseuds/maybelater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Clint is a single dad driving his daughter to visit grandma’s for Christmas, Phil is a hotshot photographer who’s getting married on Christmas Eve, and their paths cross.</p><p>A Clint/Coulson fic based on the movie “The Road to Christmas” starring Clark Gregg and Jennifer Grey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road to Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> You do not need to have seen the movie to read this fic! In fact, we recommend skipping it entirely.
> 
> In the movie, Clark Gregg’s character is the dad driving home for Christmas, which is the role we gave to Clint Barton. Jennifer Grey’s highly strung photographer character is now Phil Coulson.
> 
> The Italian xenophobia subplot is entirely canon compliant with the movie. This attitude is not shared by the authors. 
> 
> See end notes for spoilery information regarding the infidelity tag.

The models raised the bottles of vodka into the air as Phil snapped another photo. “Beautiful! Great job, everyone! Let’s take a fifteen minute break.” He handed the camera to one of his assistants and walked to the craft services table where his beautiful Italian fianceé Lorenza stood watching. 

He leaned in to kiss her and said, “I don’t want you to go. Do you have to go?”

“Phil, it’s only for four days, and then we’ll be married,” she said, stroking the back of Phil’s neck and smiling. 

“Why can’t we elope instead?”

“We’re going to have a beautiful wedding, and besides, you have to work.” Lorenza nodded towards the busy studio where Phil’s assistants and the models bustled around. She was right, he did have to work, and he loved his job.

“I suppose you’re right. I feel bad leaving you to arrange the wedding all by yourself, though.”

“Don’t worry. I have Michelle to help me. We’ll take care of everything.” Michelle was Lorenza’s personal assistant; Phil didn’t like her, but he couldn’t place his finger on why.

“Mmm,” Phil sighed, leaning in to kiss Lorenza again.

They broke apart when Michelle walked up to them, pointing to her watch. “Lorenza, we must go, or we’ll miss the plane!” 

Ugh, Michelle.

“Goodbye, Phil. I’ll see you in Aspen in four days!” Lorenza kissed him one last time and walked out the door. Michelle put a coat around Lorenza’s shoulders as they left, leaving Phil standing there, waving silently. He sighed, turned towards the studio and got back to work.

\--*--

"C'mon Lucky," Clint called, throwing another bag into the back of the truck. The dog hopped in and settled into the doghouse Clint kept there and laid down, looking at him. "You excited?" Clint asked, ruffling his ears. 

"I wanna ride in the back with Lucky!" Hilly called, standing beside Clint. 

"Maybe when we get to Grandma Rheduel's house." Hilly pouted for a moment before lifting up her tiny suitcase for Clint to put in the back along with the rest of their luggage. 

"Go get in the truck, squirt," he said, strapping down a tarp as he watched her climb into the passenger seat. 

Once everything was in place, Clint sat behind the wheel. "You buckle your seatbelt?" 

"Yes, dad.” Hilly rolled her eyes. 

"Good. Let’s put on some music.” Clint hit the stereo and sound had barely begun to come out of the speakers before Hilly was making puke noises.

"Not this old man music!" she protested. For a six year old she already had pretty strong opinions on music. 

"You pick something then!" 

She fiddled with the dial, just as used to their unpredictable car stereo as Clint, finding something more modern. Clint began dancing in his seat just to make Hilly squeal in embarrassment. "Dad!"

"What? I'm getting down! Yeah!" He continued dancing until Hilly poked at the stereo and turned it off. 

"Daaaaa-aaad. You’re so embarrassing." 

\--*--

Phil passed his camera to an assistant and pulled out his phone to send Lorenza a quick text. He missed her already and she had only been gone an hour.

One of the models, N’naa, walked up to where he was standing. “Getting nervous?”

“Nervous?” Phil asked. “No, not nervous. Just excited.”

N’naa nodded and bit into a piece of celery. “Yeah? No reservations or anything?”

Phil glanced at her curiously. “Reservations? No. Why, should I?”

N’naa shrugged. “Oh! No, uh, of course not. Just… seems a little quick, doesn’t it?”

“N’naa, I’ve known her for years!” He looked down at his phone again. Still no reply.

“Yes, but you’ve only gotten nasty of late,” N’naa said, gesticulating with the piece of celery to emphasize her point. “Plus there’s the whole Italian thing…”

Phil looked at her. “What Italian thing?” Why was everyone going on about Lorenza being Italian? It was the weirdest and most oddly xenophobic thing ever.

N’naa rolled her eyes. “You know how Italian women are. They love their men… and women. Lots of them.”

“Lorenza isn’t like that.” A delivery person interrupted them before Phil could continue and handed him a huge bouquet of roses. 

Phil plucked the note out of the flowers and read out loud. “Miss you already. Love, Lorenza.” He showed N’naa the note. “See? Lorenza is great.” Phil handed the flowers to a passing assistant and turned to get back to work. He was definitely right in marrying Lorenza, wasn’t he?

\--*--

"Oh c'mon!" Clint cried, tapping at the dials on the dashboard as if that would make a difference to the way the engine was stuttering. Hilly peered at him from over the coat buttoned up around her chin. They were barely out of the city. 

He managed to steer the truck into a parking spot before it fully gave out, and got out to go search for the problem. Inside the car, Hilly turned on the radio and started kicking her legs in time with the music. Lucky seemed undisturbed by the commotion, sleeping on inside his dog house.

Clint lifted the hood and waved the steam away from his face. He found the problem after a few minutes of poking around. The radiator cap was loose and the water inside had evaporated. He got a bottle of water from inside the truck and poured the contents into the radiator and made sure the cap was secure this time. They would never make it to Grandma’s house if the truck kept breaking down.

\--*--

Phil walked out of the studio and into the crisp winter air. He breathed deeply and caught the eye of a little blonde girl sitting in the passenger seat of an old pick-up truck. She waved and grinned at him, and he smiled back before putting his sunglasses on and walking away, answering his ringing cell phone.

“Phillip! I chose the flowers. Orchids.” Lorenza said.

“Orchids? I thought we agreed on roses, they’re classic and beautiful.”

“Ah, but these orchids, they are beautiful and exotic, Phil.”

“Well, I suppose I can’t argue with that,” Phil said. “I miss you.”

“Soon, Phillip. But now I go order the orchids, amore mio.”

Phil sighed and slipped his phone back into his pocket. Only four more days.

...

“So, Phil,” Rose said, carefully shaping Phil’s nails. “Tell me about this wedding. A Christmas wedding? That’s so romantic.”

Phil smiled. “Christmas Eve, actually, it was her idea. She owns this beautiful chalet in Aspen.”

“Aspen!” Rose looked at Phil excitedly. “Was she born in Colorado?”

Phil shook his head. “No, she was born in Italy.”

Rose’s face immediately fell. “Italy… oh.”

Phil scrunched up his nose. “What’s wrong with Italy?”

Rose laughed a little. “Oh, nothing, Italy is a beautiful country. Just, you know, Italians.”

Why was everyone suddenly against Italians? “What about Italians?” he asked, trying to keep his voice polite.

“Well, okay.” Rose paused in her task and looked at Phil. “I dated an Italian guy once. He dumped me for my best friend and then he turned around and married her brother. And I heard he even slept with the mother!”

Phil frowned. “Well, that is a terrible story, but what does that have to do with my fiancée?”

Rose smiled again, appeasing. “Nothing, nothing.”

Phil opened his mouth to respond, but his phone rang. “Excuse me, I have to take this.” He gingerly picked up the phone, minding his freshly manicured nails, and answered.

“Hey, Phil, this is Tracy. The shoot has been cancelled. We won’t need you until after the new year now.” 

“Oh, thank you, Tracy! You just made my day. Merry Christmas!” Phil hung up and turned back to Rose.

“Good news?” she asked, putting away her tools.

“The best. My shoot was cancelled and now I can go to Aspen a couple of days early and surprise Lorenza! Are we done here?”

“Yes, we’re done. You have a wedding to go to.”

\--*--

“No! C’mon you rusty piece of crap.” Clint groaned, patted the dash, and hoped against hope that the truck was not breaking down again. 

The truck sputtered and made other horrible noises while Clint coaxed it into driving into the next town so he could stop at the auto repair shop. 

A mechanic named Carl peered at the engine, did something with a wrench and then sucked his teeth. “It’s easy to fix, but I don’t have the part. We can probably get what we need shipped in from Omaha, but it won’t be here until tomorrow.”

Clint’s heart sank. “Do you know anywhere we can stay?” 

Carl snorted. “Only the Ritz down the road.” 

“The Ritz” turned out to be a fleabag motel that looked as if its last guests died in 1978. Hilly seemed happy though, so Clint resigned himself to staying there overnight. It had to be better than sleeping on the side of the road, at least.

\--*--

The tinny voice of the captain crackled through the plane. “Sorry, folks, this is your captain speaking. There have been some technical difficulties and we’re going to have to divert this flight to Omaha, Nebraska!”

“God dammit,” Phil muttered under his breath. He looked at the lady seated next to him and asked, without much hope, “Omaha is near Aspen, right?”

“Oh, dear, I’m not sure.” She shook her head and put the photo album she had been sharing with him back into her bag.

Phil took a few moments to take deep calming breaths before jumping into action as soon as the plane touched down. He shoved the guy sleeping on his shoulder off of him, pushed his way out of the seat and into the aisle, and rushed to de-board the plane as quickly as possible so he could get to a service agent. 

“I’m sorry, but there aren’t any flights to Aspen for…” she paused, typing on her keyboard. “Three days.”

“Three days!” Phil was going to lose his mind. How did everything get so bad so quickly? “You don’t understand. I need to be in Aspen today! I’m getting married! Is there anything at all to Colorado?”

The service agent shook her head. “I’m very sorry sir, but no. I can get you on a waiting list and maybe something will pop up?”

“No. There has to be some way to get to Aspen. I’ll drive! Is there a rental car place around here?” Phil slammed his hand on the counter in frustration.

The agent looked at him like he was rather stupid. “Good luck getting a rental car this time of year. Sir, the best I can do is put you on a return flight to Chicago. Or tell you where the bus station is.”

“I am not going back to Chicago. Give me the address to the bus station,” Phil said, some of his frustration leaking into his voice.

“Here you go, but it’s halfway across town.” The agent scribbled an address on the back of his ticket and handed it to him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other customers.”

“Thank you, and merry Christmas,” Phil said, but the agent was already dealing with someone else.

Phil started to cross the street to get to the bus station when a pick-up truck caught his eye. There was the little blonde girl from before staring at him. Was he losing his mind? He shook his head and kept walking down the street. He did not have time for hallucinatory distractions.

...

A slightly dirty homeless-looking man plopped down in the seat next to him. “This the bus to Kansas City?” He wheezed out. Phil grimaced and nodded yes, shifting closer to the window. This day really could not get worse.

The man took out a bottled wrapped in a paper bag from his jacket pocket and held it out to Phil. “Want a swig?”

Phil considered. “What the hell, sure.” He took the bottle and drank a huge gulp of what turned out to be really cheap whiskey. He coughed his thanks and handed it back.

“Amen,” the homeless man said and took a huge swig himself. This bus ride could not be over soon enough.

...

Phil fell down the steps off the bus. God, drinking that liquor was a horrible idea. The homeless man, who said to call him Jimmy, helped Phil up and started dusting off his coat. It really was more groping than dusting so Phil batted his hands away. “Jimmy, stop, I got it. Thanks.” He adjusted his bag strap on his shoulder and looked around the bus terminal.

“Uh, Jimmy, do you know when the bus to Aspen leaves?”

Jimmy laughed at him. “Aspen! There ain’t no bus to Aspen. You gotta go through Wichita!”

“Wichita? But in Omaha they told me-“

“Well we ain’t in Omaha, is we? You gotta go through Wichita. A bus leaves at Midnight,” Jimmy said.

“Midnight! But I need to get to Aspen. What am I gonna do?” Phil was starting to whine. This really was not fair.

“I dunno!” Jimmy shrugged and walked away, leaving Phil alone with his tipsy sadness.

A man approached him and said, “I heard you needed to go to Aspen? I have a ride. I’m going to Denver.”

“Denver! That’s close to Aspen!” Phil was relieved until the man showed him his truck. A huge monstrosity of a freight truck covered in hunting mesh and gun stickers, two men in full gear sitting in the back and staring at him. Great.

After driving for a few hours with the three dudes smoking and staring at him the entire trip, they stopped at a gas station and Phil shot out of the truck like a bat out of hell.  
He pulled out his phone and dialed Lorenza.

“Phil!” She answered after the first ring. “I have decided on a theme. A Venetian Ball!”

“A Venetian Ball?” Phil asked. 

“Yes, Phil! It will be beautiful. You’ll see. I love you, but I must go now,” she said, and the phone clicked off before Phil could say anything.

He considered throwing his phone against the pavement, until he heard dark laughter and the sound of an engine starting. The truck was leaving him? What the hell! He started chasing after the truck, but it was going too fast.

“See ya later, sucker!” one of the two redneck dudes said, Cootie or Tiny or Biggy or something, throwing Phil’s suitcases off of the truck. His designer clothes spewed all over the road as the truck sped off, leaving Phil standing in its wake.

\--*--

Hilly had decided that they absolutely had to stop at this particular rest stop because it had a giant hot dog shaped hot dog stand. They had just had breakfast, and they really did have time to make up, but she had the most imploring gaze Clint had ever been subjected to, so, like always, he was swayed. 

“This is actually delicious,” he admitted once he took a bite. They sat on the back of the truck to eat, occasionally sparing a scrap of hot dog for Lucky. The dog seemed to love being out of the truck and out in the open, looking at wide stretches of field around them and sniffing excitedly. “Soon, ok?” Clint scratched Lucky’s head.

He was helping Hilly wipe ketchup off of her chin when squealing tires drew their attention. A man in a very nice suit was running after a truck, waving his arms wildly. As they watched, someone opened the back of the truck and threw out a suitcase which cracked open on impact, scattering shoes and clothes all over the road. 

“Daddy, that’s the guy I’ve been seeing everywhere!” Clint glanced down at her. 

“What guy?” he asked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The guy, Daddy! We should help him.” Hilly gave Clint her puppy dog eyes and pouty lips.

“Fine,” Clint said, grinning at Hilly. “But if this goes terribly I’m gonna blame you!”

Clint hopped down to pick up a tie that was tumbling across the ground towards him. “Are you alright?” he called out to the man.

“I’m fine!” the man snapped.

“You don’t seem fine.” 

Clint picked up a pair of underpants on his way over to where the man was crouched, stuffing things back into the suitcase and muttering under his breath. “I don’t need your help.” 

Clint held up his hands. The underwear and the tie flapped in the wind. “Wasn’t offering it.”

The man huffed and continued shoving things into the suitcase before looking up and scowling. “Do you mind? Stop touching my things! I said I don’t need your help.” 

Hilly had found a shoe and came over to hand it to the man. He took it before primly saying, “Thank you,” and packing it away.

“Do you need a ride?” she asked. “We have space.”

Clint widened his eyes. “Hilly!”

The man looked between them before giving her a tight smile. “Thank you for the offer, but I don’t need a ride.” 

Clint frowned. Whoever this guy was, he seemed to be in a tight spot, and he was not the sort of man to leave other people in a jam when he could help it. “Where are you headed?” 

The man huffed and dropped what looked like about six more ties into the case. “Aspen. I’m supposed to be getting married in four days.” 

Clint looked up the road. “And you were driving to your wedding in a truck full of rednecks?” 

“My flight got re-routed and then I got a bus and -- anyway it doesn’t matter. I’ll call my assistant and have him arrange something. There has to be a rental car place somewhere around here.” 

Clint and Hilly exchanged looks. She was giving him pleading eyes again. He sighed and jerked his head for her to get into the truck.

“We’re headed up that way, to Vail. We can give you a ride if you want.” 

He held the clothes in his hand out to the man, who looked at them for a long moment before taking them and tucking them back into the case. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” 

Clint shrugged. “You’ll have to listen to Hilly’s music but otherwise we’re not too bad. And I promise we won’t abandon you on the side of the road.”

The man snapped the suitcase up. “Phil,” he said, holding out a hand. 

Clint shook it and smiled. “I’m Clint, and that’s my daughter, Hilly. The mutt in the back is Lucky. Nice to meet you, Phil.” 

\--*--

Phil figured climbing into this questionable looking truck with a stranger and his daughter would not be the worst decision he made all day. Clint looked more trustworthy than Tiny and Cootie the redneck twins, at least, and at this point he was desperate to get to Aspen and see Lorenza again.

Phil sifted through his bag and pulled out his cell phone charger. “Do you mind if I plug this in?” Phil gestured with the charger towards the truck lighter.

“Oh, uh,” Clint replied. “The lighter’s broken. Not that it matters, you wouldn’t get reception out here anyway.”

“You get reception everywhere these days.” Phil shifted around in his seat, waving his phone in the air to see if he had any bars. He didn’t. “I am getting no signal. Can’t you do something? I have wedding plans to make. I have to call my office. I can’t be out of contact!”

Clint made a huffing noise, glancing at Phil. “What do you expect me to do? Let you use this CB radio I pulled out of my ass?”

“Oh, you have one of those? Can I use it?”

Clint rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t have a CB radio. Who do you think I am?”

Phil was saved from answering by a loud popping noise.  
“Shit, I think we got a flat tire,” Clint said, jerking the truck to the side of the road.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

\--*--

Clint got to work changing the flat tire while Phil watched from a safe distance, still keeping an eye on his phone in case he magically got signal in this godforsaken back road country.

“So,” Hilly piped up from inside the truck. “Tell me about your wedding! Weddings are so exciting and pretty. What’s the name of the lady you’re gonna marry?”

Phil smiled at Hilly. “Her name is Lorenza, she’s Italian, and she’s beautiful. Our wedding will be beautiful too.”

Hilly frowned at Phil. “She’s Italian?” Her tone of voice sounded remarkably judgmental for a six year old. Phil frowned back. 

“You too? You’re six! What could you possibly have against Italians!”

Clint stood up, the tire jack in one hand and the busted tire in the other. “Geez, dude, lighten up. It was just a comment, she didn’t mean anything.”

Phil took a deep breath. He was losing his damn mind over this wedding. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry. I’ve just had a really hard day.”

Clint nodded. “Yeah. We can stop at the next town up? It’s just a bit down the road. We could probably use a snack break, couldn’t we, Hilly?”

Hilly’s frown quickly morphed into an excited grin. “Can I take Lucky for a walk when we get there?”

Clint smiled at her fondly. “Sure. Let’s go.”

\--*--

They stopped for a snack near a barren field covered in patches snow. Clint watched Phil ask for a latte with soy milk and the waiter looked at him like he’d grown a third eye. “I don’t think they have lattes, Phil.” 

“Oh, well… a cappuccino?” 

The waiter frowned. 

“Two coffees, please,” Clint decided. “With milk.” 

Phil looked at his nails while they waited, and Clint wondered if he got manicures or his hands were just naturally that soft and neat. He wanted to ask, but it was something that would sound mean no matter how he asked it. Instead he asked about the wedding, and Phil’s face lit up. 

“Lorenza is taking care of most of the arrangements. It’s going to be classic and understated, beautiful just like her.” 

The coffee arrived and Phil wiped the edge of the mug with his sleeve before taking a sip. Hilly bounded in from outside, holding Lucky’s leash and on the verge of tears. “What’s wrong? What happened?” Clint pulled her into his arms and she clung on tightly. 

“Lucky’s gone! He saw a rabbit and ran after it!” Hilly said through her tears. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” 

“Hey, hey, it’s not your fault.” Clint got up, tossing some cash onto the table. “Phil, we have to go look for him. He could be anywhere.” 

Phil looked longingly at his coffee for a second and then sighed. “Alright, let’s go.” 

The three of them trudged across the fields near the diner for at least an hour, calling out the dog’s name and other things that seemed dog-appropriate. “Fetch!” Phil yelled from fifty yards away. He walked up a bank by some trees and then promptly disappeared. 

“Phil?” 

Clint ran up the bank to find Phil had slipped down the other side, right into an icy, muddy puddle. Hilly ran up beside Clint and looked over the edge. They both started laughing for several minutes as Phil slipped down the bank four more times, sputtering and saying ‘this isn’t funny!’ before Clint stopped laughing long enough to hold out a hand and haul him up. 

Phil started brushing off the mud and leaves from his suit, but it didn’t seem to be doing anything. “Sorry about your suit,” Clint said, making a vague effort to brush some of the dirt off for him. 

Phil laughed and shook his head. “Sadly, this isn’t even in the top five worst things that have happened to me today.” 

\--*--

The best place they could find for the night was a fairly run down motel. There was only the one room available, and Phil thought for one frightening moment that he would have to sleep on the floor, but thankfully it had two beds, and the manager brought by a rollaway bed for Hilly. 

Hilly grabbed the remote for the old TV the motel provided and began flicking through the channels before settling on a music station, where some ghastly pop music was playing. Phil looked over to see Clint roll his eyes. 

“You mind if I take first shower?” he asked, and Phil shrugged. Even if Clint used up all the hot water it was not as if his day could get worse.

Hilly sang along to the TV and Phil realized he recognized the singer; he’d done a photoshoot with her a while back. Hilly did not believe him when he told her, and she pressed him for details. Phil was telling her about the singer when Clint reappeared, a towel slung low on his hips, using another to dry his hair. Phil tried not to stare. Those flannel shirts had been hiding an impressive physique. 

“What are you guys talking about?” 

“Phil knows Britney Spears!” said Hilly. Phil nodded.

“I took some pictures of her once.” 

Clint looked like he was about to say something, but Phil’s phone rang. Lorenza was calling.

“Lorenza!” Phil was pleased to hear his fiancee’s voice. “How are things?” 

He locked himself in the bathroom for some privacy, agreeing in all the right places as Lorenza detailed an array of wedding minutia. The Venetian ball theme seemed to be so much more elaborate than they’d originally planned, but then, he did leave most of the details up to her.

Lorenza started talking about adding a fifth course to the reception, and Phil sighed. “What is it, Philip?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just… do you think perhaps it’s the right decision?” 

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Lorenza spoke. “Perhaps you’re right. Maybe it is too soon to get married.” 

“What? No! I meant the Venetian Ball theme.” 

“Oh, of course! Me too,” Lorenza said. “That’s what I meant…” 

“Do you not want to get married?” 

“Oh darling, don’t be silly! I can’t wait for the wedding, it will be wonderful. A perfect day.” 

Phil wasn’t so sure anymore.

\--*--

Clint woke slowly to the sounds of Hilly fussing over Lucky. He opened his eyes and smiled at Phil who was also just beginning to stir in his own bed. For a moment they looked dreamily at one another, unguarded smiles and warmth before they both bolted upright and shook the moment away. Clint was not at home and Phil was not… Phil was not anything, just a random guy he had met the day before.

“Dad! Look! Lucky came back!” Hilly shouted from the doorway.

“Lucky!” Clint called as he joined them, showering the dog with affection. “Where did you go? Huh? Where did you go?” 

Clint looked back and saw Phil standing in the doorway of the bathroom, holding a toothbrush in his hand. Clint grinned at him and Phil smiled back before shutting the bathroom door.

\--*--

A few towns over from the motel, Clint pulled into a parking space of a rather nondescript building.

“Where are we?” Phil asked, looking up from his phone. He had been busy trying to will reception back into it.

“This, Phil, is the Hubcap Museum. It’s an American Institution. I promised Hilly we would stop here, didn’t I, Hilly?”

“Yeah!” Hilly squealed and shot out of the car and towards the main doors.

Phil sighed and put his phone away. “I suppose I can’t say no to that much excitement.”

Clint grinned at him. “Good, because you didn’t have a choice. Let’s go.”

Phil inspected a wall of hubcaps closely, trying to convince himself it was something interesting. It was not working; they all still looked like boring metal discs. He turned and walked over to where Clint was pointing out hubcaps to Hilly and telling her the kinds of cars they came from. Unsurprisingly, Hilly was really into it, given the way she held onto Clint’s every word.

Phil waited for a break in Clint’s speech before asking, “You guys ready to go?”

Clint and Hilly looked up at him and Clint said, “Just about! I was just telling Hilly about this hubcap from a classic Buick.”

Phil squinted at the hubcap Clint was pointing at. “Huh, that looks like a Studebaker to me.”

Clint shook his head. “Five bucks says it’s a Buick.”

“You’re on.”

Hilly read the placard next to the hubcap. “52 Studebaker! Phil is right, daddy.” 

Clint leaned in closer to the hubcap to see for himself. “Huh, damn, it is a Studebaker.”

Phil smiled smugly at Clint. “You owe me five bucks. Weren’t you supposed to be some sort of hubcap expert or something?”

Clint rolled his eyes, grabbed Hilly’s hand, and headed for the exit. “Should’ve guessed you’d be a sore winner, Phil.”

\--*--

Phil kept fiddling with his cellphone, looking at it and frowning before pressing random buttons. It seemed to be something of a nervous habit. 

“Are you even getting a signal out here?” Clint asked. 

“Unfortunately, no,” Phil said. “How do people survive without cellphone service?”

“Pretty sure the human race was going strong for a long while before phones were invented.” Phil rolled his eyes. 

“Do you need to make a call?”

“Not really. Just wanted to check in with Lorenza is all.”

“Do you miss her?” Clint asked.

Phil did not answer right away. He seemed to be considering something when he suddenly shouted. “Oh!” He pointed at his phone. “I got signal!”

“Really?”

“Oh, dammit, it’s gone! Can you go back? We have to be able to get the signal again.” 

Clint slammed on the brakes and threw the truck into reverse, Hilly and Phil both shouting directions at him, Phil never taking his eyes off his phone. On a particularly loud ‘back a little more!’ from Phil, his phone held high in the air, the back wheel slipped into a ditch with a loud thunk. 

They sat there in silence as Clint tried to drive back out, but it was no use. They were stuck. 

“We drove into a ditch,” Hilly said, helpfully. 

“Great,” Clint said, looking pointedly at Phil before getting out of the truck to assess the damage. 

“This wasn’t my fault!” Phil got out onto the road gracelessly to join Clint where he was standing, looking mournfully at the wheel that was stuck in the ditch.

“You and your stupid cellphone!”

“Me? Maybe if you could drive properly!” 

“Seriously? You’re blaming me for this?” 

“You were driving!” 

“Following your terrible directions!” 

Phil opened his mouth and then shut it. Clint felt a small amount of vindictive joy at having won. 

“Can’t you fix it?” Phil asked. “Surely you have a tool kit in the back of this thing.” 

“Yeah, Phil, I’ll just get out my tow truck. We’ll be on our way in no time.” 

Phil huffed before stepping away from the truck and sticking his thumb out. Clint watched him for a moment trying to work out just what he was doing.

“Are you seriously trying to hitch a ride here?”

“A car might come by!” 

“We haven’t seen another person on this road in two hours, Phil!” 

“Well do you have any better ideas?”

Clint hesitated over what to do - he probably could get the truck out of the ditch but it’d take a while, and it was going to get dark in a few hours. 

“If you don’t mind walking for a bit, my mom lives about ten miles that way,” Clint nodded up the road. 

Phil looked at him and then down at his own feet. “What?” 

“What size shoe do you wear?” 

“Uh, Eleven? Why?” 

Clint rummaged in the back for his spare hiking boots. They were old and had most certainly seen better days, but they would probably be more comfortable than the smart shoes Phil was wearing. He held them out. Phil looked at the boots like they were radioactive. Clint shrugged. “It’s your call, but it’s either walk to Grandma Rheduel’s house in your fancy city shoes or get there without blisters.” 

Phil winced as he took them, as if this was the ultimate indignity. Clint smiled. Phil was kind of cute sometimes.

\--*--

Rheduel’s house was warm and cozy and the best thing Phil had seen in days. He got a full, uninterrupted night’s sleep for the first time in months. He woke to the sun gently streaming through the window and the smell of breakfast cooking downstairs. He could see himself getting used to this.

Once he was dressed and fed and watered, he got Rheduel’s permission to look around the property. He grabbed his camera from his bag and headed outside. There was a detached barn that looked slightly disused, at odds with the lived in and clean look of the main house. There was no lock on the door so Phil gently pushed it open and walked in.

Inside, cast in the light beaming in through the rafters were large, beautiful sculptures. Half of them were haphazardly covered in dust cloths and the other half were covered in just dust. He snapped a few photos of the sculpture closest to him, capturing the way the morning light hit it.

“What are you doing in here?” Clint’s said from the doorway. He sounded angry. Phil snapped up from his inspection of one of the smaller sculptures and turned towards Clint.

“Uh, sorry, I didn’t know this was off limits,” he said.

The anger seemed to drain out of Clint quickly and he walked further into the barn, leaning against a column. “I guess it isn’t, really.”

Phil clutched his camera to his chest and quietly said, “These sculptures are beautiful. Who did them?”

Clint glanced at Phil and then back down to the floor. He seemed slightly uncomfortable as he said, “I did them.”

Phil was admittedly shocked at that. “Really? I didn’t know you were an artist.”

Clint looked at Phil sadly. “I’m not, anymore. I quit when my wife died. I just didn’t see the point to go on.”

Phil looked around the barn again, unsure of how to respond. “I’d love to photograph them, they’re beautiful,” he finally said.

Clint made an adorably confused face. “These? Really?” Phil nodded. “All right then. I can, uh, tell you about them?” Clint said, scratching the back of his neck and looking vaguely terrified and shy at the thought.

“I’d love that. How about this one?” Phil pointed at the sculpture he had been inspecting before Clint came in.

Clint walked over to the sculpture and seemed to gain back his confidence with each step. “Yeah, ok, this one? This is one of my favorites. When I was working on it I discovered this flaw in the metal and wanted to follow it… see it?” Phil leaned in closer to the sculpture to see what Clint was showing him. He was close enough to Clint to smell the crisp winter scent of snow and pine on him. “It kinda sounds strange but as I worked on it, it’s as if the piece revealed itself to me.”

Phil turned towards Clint and met his eye. “I don’t think it sounds strange at all.” They kept each other’s gaze for longer than was appropriate. Phil was an engaged man! Clint licked his lips and seemed to be considering something, when the door to the barn burst open and Hilly and Lucky bounded in. 

Hilly yelled, “Daddy, daddy! Grandma wants you to go the store!”

Clint scooped up a giggling Hilly and headed back outside, pausing for a moment to glance back at Phil. Phil stayed where he was for several minutes afterwards, a jumble of thoughts and feelings clouding his brain. He shook his head a few times to clear it out. He had no right to be thinking these things. He’d be in Aspen tomorrow and back in Lorenza’s arms.

\--*--

It was nice being back at Rheduel’s house again. She had made Clint and Hilly their favorite pie from a recipe she was famous for in the circus. Clint had no idea what went into the pie, he just knew it was delicious. 

Phil politely picked at his piece, not really eating much. Rheduel seemed to warm to him anyway, glancing knowingly at Clint before clearing their plates away and hustling them into the living room. She took out a large photo album and started showing pictures to Phil, ignoring Clint’s embarrassed protests.

Phil seemed rather enchanted with the whole thing, listening to Rheduel’s obviously embellished stories from their circus days, until she gave a final yawn and excused herself, carrying a sleeping Hilly out with her. 

Clint made them tea and they stayed up a little while longer, Phil asking more questions about the circus. Some kind of wall had been crumbling down between them since they arrived, especially after their conversation in the barn. The old house tended to be relaxing anyway, but it seemed to work wonders on Phil, who was the calmest Clint had seen yet. 

Clint felt a tug of longing, but Phil was getting married in a few days so he pushed it away. He stood, stretching and smiled. “We’ll be on the road tomorrow,” he said. Phil looked sad for a moment before nodding. 

“Thank you, for everything.” 

“Good night, Phil.” 

...

Clint changed for bed but could not relax. He kept thinking about the way the light caught Phil’s eyes in the barn, about the warmth of him close by, about how, despite the seemingly endless setbacks and annoyances of the trip, he’d do it all again if he got to talk to Phil a little longer. Part of him was hoping against hope that the truck would be stuck in the ditch for a few more days so Phil would be stranded there with them. He kept thinking about Phil’s beautiful Italian fiancée and how they wouldn’t be able to get married if Phil wasn’t there. It was entirely unfair of him to be having such thoughts, wishing ill on a woman he’d never met.

He laughed at himself and got out of bed. He decided a midnight snack would be a better way to fall asleep than the alternative. Clint stepped into the dimly lit kitchen and then stopped; Phil was already in the kitchen. 

“Hi,” Phil said softly. “I was just getting a glass of water.” 

Clint nodded and came closer, the two of them moving towards each other until they were almost touching. Clint watched Phil’s tongue dart out to wet his lips and that was it, the last of the wall between them disappeared. He leaned in to kiss Phil, who immediately returned it in kind. It could have been hours that passed in that perfect moment, Phil’s lips on his, his tongue touching Clint’s. Phil pulled away and Clint chased Phil’s lips and then stopped, realizing what he had done. 

“I’m so sorry,” he started, but Phil shook his head. 

“I- I can’t.” He backed away and out of the kitchen, leaving Clint standing there alone. 

\--*--

The drive to Aspen the next day was extremely uncomfortable. Phil tried to apologize for the night before, but Clint just smiled (more like grimaced) at him and then Hilly noisily climbed into the truck, effectively ending the conversation.

Phil couldn’t leave the truck fast enough when they pulled into the circular driveway of Lorenza’s Aspen chalet. He paused before climbing up the steps to the door and reconsidered. He should really invite Clint and Hilly inside. They had done him a lot of favors the past few days and he was nothing if not polite to what were effectively strangers. He turned to tell them they could come inside but found they were already walking towards him and carrying his luggage. He smiled his thanks and opened the door, calling out “Lorenza!” as he walked into the sprawling building, Clint and Hilly following close behind.

Lorenza was nowhere to be found in the main rooms, so Phil headed towards her bedroom. He walked in, Clint and Hilly on his heels, and saw Lorenza in bed, with Michelle next to her!

“Lorenza!” Phil said. “What are you doing?”

Lorenza and Michelle both sat up, clutching sheets to themselves and looking as shocked as Phil felt. “Phil!” Lorenza said. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to get in tomorrow afternoon.”

Phil couldn’t move. “We drove here. Lorenza? What is going on?”

Lorenza climbed out of bed and pulled on a bathrobe. “We were going over the wedding schedule! Right, Michelle?”

“Yes, Phillip!” Michelle said. “Wedding schedule, yes.”

“In bed? Naked?” Phil could not believe it. Were all of those people right and Italians were terrible cheaters and liars? No, they were definitely just being xenophobic. He was no better than Lorenza, really. Phil turned on his heels and headed back outside, collapsing on the steps and burying his face in his hands.

\--*--

Phil was still sitting on the front porch of the chalet when Clint and Hilly came out. 

“Hey,” Clint said, sitting down beside Phil. There was not much to be said, so they looked at the landscape instead.

“I’m so embarrassed,” Phil said quietly. “How could I have been so stupid?” 

“You’re not stupid,” Clint replied.

Phil looked like he wanted to argue, but then looked away again. “I thought Lorenza was the one. What do I even do now?”

“Come home with us?” 

Hilly’s face lit up, but she bit her lip as if sensing that this was Phil’s decision to make.  
He looked like he was considering it for a moment before shaking his head. “Thank you, but I can’t, I can’t intrude on you like that. You’ve already done so much for me.” 

“Phil, you saw all the food Rheduel’s making. There’s space, and we’d love to have you.” In a smaller voice, Clint added, “I’d love to have you.” 

That made Phil look up, startled for a moment before his features softened around a smile. “Really?” 

Clint dropped a hand between them to press it briefly over Phil’s and nodded. Phil turned his hand over and caught Clint’s before taking a deep breath. “I would love that.” 

...

“I have a gift for you” Clint said after they’d gorged themselves on enough of Rheduel’s food to feed eight people. “In the barn.” 

Rheudel’s eyes twinkled as she laughed, and Clint realized that probably sounded a bit sordid. “No,” he spluttered. “I mean… An actual present, oh my God, get your mind out of the gutter.”

Phil blushed but put on his coat and followed Clint through the snow and into the barn. It was dark now, so Clint hit the lights and awkwardly gestured around them at the assorted sculptures that had been there for years now. 

“I thought maybe you could have one. If you want.” 

“What?” 

“Well, they’re not really doing anything here, and you seemed so interested.” Though now Clint came to think of it, it might have been simply polite curiosity. Phil shook his head.

“Really?” 

Clint was halfway through shrugging, because he’d never been very good at this sort of thing, when Phil was suddenly in his arms and kissing him. 

\--*--

They continued kissing until a tiny coughing sound interrupted them. The broke apart and looked at the door, where Hilly was standing, her little arms crossed.

“Daddy, does this mean Phil is going to live with us in Chicago?”

“Uh, honey.” Clint gave Phil an embarrassed smile. “I don’t even know where he lives and works.”

“I actually live in Chicago already, but with my job, really, I can move anywhere. Not, that, uh, we should move in together or anything…”

“Really?” Clint grinned. “Not even anything?”

“Well. Maybe a little something.”

THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> Infidelity is (aside from one kiss) on the part of Phil’s fianceé.


End file.
